“What is it, Mr. Grogan?”
“Whist!” replied Grogan, “If that is Mary Randall on the wire there, I’ve gone to Alaska. I’ve given all me money away and I’m living on snow balls.”
Miss Masters smiled and replied with assurance: “This isn’t Mary Randall.”
“Thank God for that,” breathed Grogan.
“Hello,” went on Miss Masters into the telephone. “Oh, you’re long distance? Well?”
There was a pause.
“I’m sorry, but Mr. Harry Boland hasn’t come downtown yet.”
“He may be in any moment—shall I—”
She broke off sharply as Harry himself came in the door drawing off his gloves.
“Wait! Just a moment please,” she went on. “He has just come in.”